his phone and held it in his hand as we called everyone on speakerphone to tell them the good news.
When we were done, we walked into the living room and played “Heart and Soul” together, half-naked, drunk, and swooning.
As I sat next to him on the piano bench, I said, “What if I’d never walked into the music store . . .”
Sam smiled gently and looked at me as he played the keys on the piano ever so softly. And then he said, “But you did.”
I decided that was my answer to questions of fate. I could go around asking myself what if x hadn’t happened, and the answer would always be, “But it did.”
What if Jesse hadn’t gotten on that helicopter?
But he did.
I decided to no longer wonder what would have happened if things had worked out differently. And instead, I would focus on what was in front of me. I would focus on reality instead of asking myself questions about fictions.
I kissed Sam’s temple. “Take me to bed!” I said.
Sam laughed and took his hands off the piano. “OK, but most of the time when women say that, they mean it sexually.”
I laughed. “I mean it sleep-ually,” I said.
And then I let out a yelp as Sam stood up and lifted me into his arms.
“Sleep-ually it is,” he said as he laid me down on my side of our bed and tucked me in. I fell asleep in the crook of his arm just as he said, “I’m going to find you the perfect diamond ring. I promise.”
I was joyful that night.
I felt as if I was moving forward.
I thought that if Jesse could see me from wherever he was, he’d be smiling.
What I was not thinking was, Jesse is alive. He’ll be home in two months. Look what I’ve done.
AFTER
Both
Or, how to put everything you love at risk
I am lying awake in bed next to Sam, staring at the ceiling. Our gray cat, Mozart, is lying on my feet. Homer, his brother, is black and white and never leaves his spot underneath the piano in the living room except to eat.
It’s almost nine a.m. on Wednesday, one of my days off and the day Sam doesn’t have to be at school until eleven. On these late mornings, I have illusions about the two of us going out for breakfast, but Sam always refuses to open his eyes until the very last second. This school year so far we have gone to breakfast on a Wednesday exactly zero times. Right now, Sam is sound asleep beside me.
It’s been seven weeks since I found out that Jesse was alive. Our initial conversation was kept brief, and due to concerns of Jesse’s well-being, contact has been limited. I have been getting most of my updates via e-mail from his mother, Francine.
All I know is that he’s been at risk for refeeding syndrome and complications from hypoglycemia.
The doctors did not clear him to be released until yesterday.
That means that he is coming home tomorrow.
When I told Sam about this last night, he said, “OK. How are you feeling?”
I told him the God’s honest truth. “I have no idea.”
I am very confused right now. In fact, I’m so confused that I’m confused about how confused I am.
What Sam and I have . . . it’s love. Pure and simple and true.
But I’m no longer feeling pure, nothing is simple, and I’m no longer sure what’s true.
“What’s on your mind?” Sam asks me.
I look over at him. I didn’t realize he had woken up yet.
“Oh,” I say, turning back to the ceiling. “Nothing. Really. Nothing and everything.”
“Jesse?” he asks.
“I guess, yeah.”
Sam swallows and stays silent and then he turns away from me, getting up and going into the bathroom. I can hear the faucet start and then the water splash as he brushes his teeth. I hear the familiar squeak and rumble of the shower.
My phone rings and I reach onto my bedside table to see who it is. I do not recognize the number. I should put it through to voice mail but I don’t. Lately, I can’t stand to miss a single call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Emma Lerner?” It is the voice of a young woman.
“It’s Emma Blair,” I say. “But yes, speaking.”
“Mrs. . . .” The woman stops herself. “Ms. Blair, my name is Elizabeth Ivan. I’m calling from the Beacon.”
I close my eyes, cursing myself for answering.
“Yes?”
“We are doing a piece on the rescue of Jesse Lerner of Acton.”
“Yes.”
“And we wanted